


Your Last Breath

by antifalockhart



Category: Promare (2019)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Romance, Worldbuilding, author has a humongous boner for 80s promare, baby photos, cpr really is the only flirting tactic, hee hee british boy have funney name, i never refer to a character by hair color or occupation, its really banal and a bad habit learn syntax guys, lio fotia is less digitally literate than his grandfather, prince reference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:15:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24368719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antifalockhart/pseuds/antifalockhart
Summary: “Do you really believe I, of all people, was born into a family whose surname literally means “fire”?”As the shepherd of the Burnish,  Lio and his Promepopolitan-appointed escort are tasked with retrieving as many legal documents of Burnish citizens as possible to assist integration.  They might get a little distracted.
Relationships: Lio Fotia/Galo Thymos
Comments: 14
Kudos: 62





	Your Last Breath

**Author's Note:**

> This is a world-building exercise I did in like. January?? Anyway it's been rotting in Google Drive and it got me in a zine so perhaps she deserves to see the light of day. Post canon fics where Lio shacks up with Galo are boring me a little and they got shit to do so. This is a beta of sorts of a fun roadtrip/backstory thingy I got planned. Burnish in North America have a fully operable militia and government system comprised of civilians. I couldn't put as much world building and navel gazing in because I used this as a sample on applications and maxed out the word count; if you notice the pacing is rushed that's why.

“Do you really believe I, of all people, was born into a family whose surname literally means “fire”?” Lio, or Edgar Lionce Fortuna, scoffed with a smirk and snatched the learner’s permit from Galo, returning it to its rightful place. He stalked between the shelves of the Burnish archives, continuing the mission in stride. Galo floundered.

“Hey! Li-“ and then he felt a rush of glee, “Edgar Li-awnse.” Galo slowed down to one pace behind Lio and waited for the line to catch. Lio, despite his quick familiarity with Galo, still retained his composure under most circumstances. Galo had the impression Lio was even-keeled from the start, but no sooner after he saw the sheer emotion snap from the thick cords Lio bound them by—unbridled anger, passion, love, justice, arson—he noted that the bounds were back in place, well-practiced as the bind he had used on Galo once before they became allies. Galo wondered if he’d succeed undoing them on a second attempt.

Although, Galo impishly noted, Lio’s fuse seemed to grow shorter and shorter with him each day. Galo could tell because instead of a non-committal nod or a “tch, idiot,” he received a flat look over the shoulder—bingo, eye contact. Galo continued and half-teased without reservation, “what is that all about? Your last name isn’t Fotia? Edgar? You’re from _Detroit?!_ You are most certainly NOT 5’1’’ and 97 pounds! Do I even know you? Are you a real person? Is there anything else I should know about?”

“First of all, Galo, Edgar is my grandfather’s name. Secondly, stop wasting your breath and savor it because once I’m done here you’ll be taking your last. Now hurry up, we don’t have enough gasoline for the generator to last all day.” He stopped abruptly, Galo stumbling and ending up with an elbow in his gut and a whiff of Lio’s hair. Galo jerked back, mostly from the lurch in his heart, with an “ouch!” _I have to show him where the defibrillator is once we’re done here._

As if Galo wasn’t in cardiac arrest-related danger, he volleyed back “well, you still have a CPR test to take; you’re welcome to practice.” Extremely (stupidly) bold words considering his heart condition. But affability and bravado—and bald-faced flirtatiousness—hasn’t failed him yet. And he saved the world so why the fuck not? For his efforts he got a scoff and an eye roll—better than a black eye, he supposed. Lio turned a corner and Galo followed atten hut; it was hard for him not to get lost in the vast corridors of shelves lined with Burnish documentation and flammable belongings, all buried in an underground cache somewhere in the plains of the Northwest continent in the heart of the Neo-American Waste.

“I’ll take my chances with the practice dummy.”

“She has a name you know.”

“I’ll be less likely to contract something.” Lio continued, “Now as I was telling you earlier—don’t interrupt me,” Galo stopped himself again, just short of a slender finger poking his nose, “before you got side tracked and stuck your nose where it doesn’t belong: I’m looking for the digital archives. We’ll have to come back for the physical items when we have more resources and time.”

“Shouldn’t you have your permit to drive?” Galo said.

“That thing expired years ago, and I’d love it if someone tried to arrest _me,_ ” Lio replied, and Galo caught a glance of a wry smile before he turned on his heel to continue the search. Lio stopped in a four-way corrider like he was checking if it was safe to cross the street, “You know, the Burnish archivists are supposed to be posted here at all times—they spend months learning how to navigate this place—but I guess I don’t blame them for abandoning their posts to set the world on fire,” Lio shrugged (in that way Galo _really_ liked) and smiled in acquiesce, ”I can’t really discipline them now either, can I?” Lio marched on and Galo followed, watching the way Lio’s golden-tinged hair bobbed in the dim lighting. _Well, at least he’d be easy to find if I lose him_. Galo was completely at the mercy of the vast labyrinth and not willing to risk losing his—not very reliable—guide. “I would have done it too,” he continued, wistful, “I just wonder what it was like on the ground, to see it all burn up right in front of you.”

“If I’m being honest, Lio, I think our view was a little more spectacular,” Galo wouldn’t forget looking down onto the planet awash in blue light, absolutely beautiful and somehow breathtakingly small. In that moment with Lio, he felt they shared something beyond the limit of human understanding—and perhaps it was, because they were the closest to the Promare any human had been at that point. In all honesty, Galo considered quitting his job to become an astronaut after that.

“I wouldn’t have traded it for anything, Galo,” Lio said softly, looking him in the eyes—Lio’s burned near orange, a bit molten and framed by his lashes which casted shadows on his cheeks. Galo began to fear for his heart again.

Eventually, they found the digital archives: a grand name for what is essentially a barely functional computer monitor, dented tower and a hulking copy machine-scanner monstrosity. Lio approached the front and reached for his crotch.

“ _Buhwah_ —Lio!” Galo was volcanic but stopped his sputtering when he saw what Lio was actually doing: pulling out a Swiftway rewards card from the zipper on his inner thigh Galo forgot existed, “What is _that_ for?”

Lio swiped the card in the USB attached reader, not bothering looking back, “I’m going to pretend you were only blowing a gasket over the card,” He gave Galo a look that was probably supposed to be admonishing, but Galo somehow couldn’t feel any shame, “It’s for access to the archives—every Burnish president gets one,” he replied and began typing away furiously but only with his index fingers.

“Hey Lio.” “Yes,” _clack clack clack_. “Your bowlcut was cute.”

“I’m glad you think so, because you’ll die being the only soul who saw it,” and then Lio pulled out a brick-like hard drive from his jacket, Galo glancing at the little “LF” scrawled in Sharpie.

“Awww, your permit photo is one of the better ones I’ve seen. You only look a little constipated! You wouldn’t want to see mine!” Galo guffawed.

“If this was about seeing pictures of me when I was young, I would have dug up my baby photos.”

“Those are here?! Can I see?!” Galo demanded, slamming his palm down on the standing desk and invading Lio’s peripherals. Lio shoved his face back. “I don’t know where they are now, or if anyone even bothered to keep them at this point,” he said, turning back to the computer, “Give me a minute to finish, the lights are starting to flicker.”

“A minute” ended up being almost fifteen. When Galo got sick of pacing, he tried to watch Lio work, but his eyes glazed over. Thousands of names, words, occupations, dates… too many that made his head spin. And Lio felt responsible to protect and create a livelihood for _all_ of them? Notwithstanding the fact that Lio could conjure fire when they first met, Galo still sometimes finds Lio to be a little larger than life—Galo sees people turn to him like sunflowers to the sun, and there was never a moment Galo has seen Lio not return his attention to them; he loves all Burnish—people—with quiet ferocity. Galo, even though his livelihood and MO of his adult life has been to rescue—to sacrifice—he doesn’t think he holds a candle to the way Lio lives and breathes for others. It’s something Galo adores—has been drawn to the first moment Lio held a converstion with him—but sometimes it frightens Galo to his core. Finally the clacking stopped, and Lio rolled his neck and cracked his fingers, “that was terrible,” he said, unplugging the hard drive and shutting down the computer.

“You were lucky I didn’t start making copies of my ass, I was so bored,” Galo exaggerated with a yawn and an overdramatic stretch—which did the trick on Lio, who snorted and rolled his eyes with a smile.

“I would’ve skinned you and set you on fire if you wasted my printer ink,” and then Galo’s back was _burning_ , because Lio had put a hand on it to begin coaxing him back to the entrance. Honestly, the threat didn’t seem all that intimidating when Lio already constantly made him feel naked and warm at all times.

Still, smooth as ever, Galo said, “you would have totally begged for a copy,” and just as the heat of contact disappeared, Galo found he was near combustion when Lio said:

“Why would I beg for a copy? I look at it any time I want already.” And with that Lio passed him and slunk into the corridors, glancing back as if to say _I said what I said_.

Galo, finally, learned where his brazenness was going to get him. The thought had his hairs stand on end. Once Galo had got his blood flow back to his brain—despite his heart working overtime—he caught back up just when Lio was about to disappear around a corner.

“So, about earlier…” Lio shot him a perplexed—nervous maybe?—look, “you change your names once you become Burnish?” Galo scratched his temple.

“Oh,” he looked relieved and smiled a bit, “often when a Burnish awakens—awakened—they didn’t want to be found again or wanted to start a clean slate. It’s mostly a thing for like. Celebrities or former criminals. In my case,” Lio looked a little bashful, and the Galo-photocopier (which was probably as functional as the archive’s) saved that one and filed it accordingly in the “Lio Fotia” drawer—particularly the “cute” and “attractive” folder, “I was born into a wealthy, government-involved family as the eldest son.”

“You were _loaded_?” Galo had quickly gotten over the cognitive dissonance Lio’s pretty face gave to his rugged character, especially after he saw the man skin a jackrabbit for dinner five days ago. His personhood was forged from his time as a ridgerunner, in the golden fires of the Appalachian mountains alongside Burnish miners.

“You mean my legal name didn’t give it away, Galo? Or the cravat?” Lio gave him a solicitous look, a tweaked brow and uplifted mouth--pitying, but just indulgent enough to undercut the acid.

“I just thought you were really into _Purple Rain!_ ”

“Galo, that album is almost as old as _Edgar Sr_!” Lio barked, “I was a rich boy, and I set my sixteenth birthday cake on fire during the Fortuna family reunion at Lake Huron.” Galo wanted to investigate a little more but the lights flickered off in tandem with his brain--Lio clasped his wrist and beckoned them to the cellar door which leaked just enough light to guide them, “Hold on,” Lio turned to Galo in the dark, elevated by the small wooden steps. The flax of his hair was hemmed in the white light, and a rebellious streak cut across one dusky eye, peering down at him like he was being appraised in an atelier. Galo’s lungs were heavy. One hand was still holding his wrist and another found its way to his shoulder, “I said that you’re taking your last breath in this building, Galo Thymos,” and Galo found he was being pulled until he could feel the air crackle in the space between them, and Galo felt hair tickle his cheekbones.

“Well, it’s a shame you won’t practice CPR on me. It doesn’t have to be my last breath,” and with that Galo tossed out his last line, because there in the dark he could feel their lips graze each other as they spoke and he was losing coherency.

“Mmmh, I think I’ve changed my mind,” and with Lio’s assent Galo pressed in, reaching for the heavens.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh yeah this is my first published fanfic. Anyway my current personal canon has jossed a lot of this. If you see me straight up copy and paste prose and repurpose it in other fics I ask you kindly to hold your tongue. 
> 
> Follow me on twitter @BAR2NG ill mutual like. 75% of the time and its all promare jokes. Please retweet my art .


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